


Not Even the Morning

by InterstellarVagabond



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drunken Kissing, During Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-28 06:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19806454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarVagabond/pseuds/InterstellarVagabond
Summary: Flirting is one thing, the back and forth banter of two opposing sides during an arrangement spanning the years. Speaking it aloud is quite another thing, so Aziraphale is understandably startled when Crowley makes a request of him after a great deal of wine and music. Would giving him what he asked for ruin the quiet peace they've built? Is it okay for an angel and a demon to hide themselves away in an antique bookshop to share a private moment?





	Not Even the Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by:
> 
> 1\. the feeling of being a queer teenager terrified of kissing my partner in the basement while still closeted
> 
> 2\. the feeling of being 22 and drunk and making out with coworkers despite knowing it will make things awkward in the morning
> 
> 3\. this tiktok cosplayer http://vm.tiktok.com/RmKv9a/

Aziraphale watched with amusement as Crowley swayed to the music in an approximation of something that could be called dancing, so long as everyone agreed to be a bit looser with the term. He'd seen Crowley dance sober and honestly the wine had somehow improved his moves.

"I can't believe your... your music, this is all you have?" Crowley laughed, and Aziraphale felt his chin slide a bit from where he was resting it on his chin. Unable to think of a witty retort he settled for continuing to watch fondly as Crowley danced his way back from the ancient phonograph. Aziraphale went to pour them both another drink, thinking that was why Crowley was moving towards him and not collapsing back on the couch. He was surprised when the demon leaned in close and steadied himself with a hand on the back of his chair. Aziraphale could smell the wine on his breath and the somehow familiar scent of his soap. Perhaps if Aziraphale wasn't busy blinking in alarm at Crowley's face inches from his he'd have wondered when exactly he became accustomed to the smell of Crowley's soap.

"Are you alright?" Aziraphale asked, still giggling a little despite the surprise.

"Kiss me, angel," Crowley answered, lips pulling back in a smile that showed off fangs he usually kept hidden.

"W-... what?" Aziraphale stammered, leaning far back in his chair as his face turned red. 

"Don't worry, I'll kiss you back," Crowley said, sounding amused.

"Crowley, I… I think maybe you've had enough." Aziraphale wondered if he should sober up, make Crowley do the same and turn in early. "Stop joking!"

"M'not joking." Crowley pulled away, stumbling for a moment and then settling down on the floor with some effort and a contented sigh. "C'mon was… was I wrong? I thought… well, I mean we never say it because you can't say it, getting into bed with the enemy and all that but… haven't we been flirting the past few thousand years?"

"Flirting is… different," Aziraphale said, deciding to have that drink after all. This was not a conversation he wanted to have sober because then it would mean something and once it meant something they would have to figure out what to do, how to be, how they… felt.

Crowley reached out and caught his wrist as Aziraphale picked up his newly filled glass.

"Howzit different?" He asked, stealing the first sip. 

Aziraphale scowled. "It's… well it's… its harmless, right?"

"This could be harmless." Crowley took another sip and then relinquished the glass back to its owner. "No one here but us, drunk enough to forget it later-"

"You're doing it!"

"Doing what? What am I doing?"

"You're  _ tempting  _ me," Aziraphale accused.

"Demon 101, Aziraphale," Crowley said, lurching to his feet and fixing Aziraphale with a grin. "You can only tempt people, into… into things they already want."

Crowley was close again, and Aziraphale didn't back away this time. He was wondering, in fact, how he'd found the strength to last time. Everything he'd been told was telling him this wasn't how things are meant to be, but everything he knew reminded him of how his heart had fluttered happily when Crowley had strolled into his bookshop that morning with croissants from the bakery he liked and the most interesting and horrible stories to tell.

"If… if I'm wrong… I can leave," Crowley said, seeming to have lost his conviction and slipped right into guilt. "Stupid, m'sorry 'Ziraphale I-"

Aziraphale cupped a hand around Crowley's jaw, and let his thumb drag back and forth lightly across his cheek. 

"Well," he said, feeling more nervous than he sounded. "Come sit."

"Sit… here?" Crowley gulped and indicated Aziraphale's lap. 

"Where else, you ridiculous serpent?" Aziraphale said, pulling Crowley closer with a hand at the small of his back.

Crowley did as he was told, slinging arms about Aziraphale's neck and letting one hand find its way into the angel's feather soft hair. 

It was like once they'd started touching they couldn't stop, and it only got easier to keep going. As Aziraphale felt Crowley's teeth scrape across his lip he couldn't think of a single reason to have ever said no to this. Crowley found himself thoughtless entirely as Aziraphale tugged at his hair rough enough to draw an excited gasp and chuckle from his throat.

The record skipped a moment, before the needle found its mark again, and Crowley's breath hitched as Aziraphale trailed a hand down to his hip.

"Kiss me, angel," he said again, softer this time without any false swagger.

So Aziraphale kissed him, and suddenly he was lifting him. If Crowley was surprised he didn't show it, in fact he adapted to the situation quite easily by wrapping his legs around Aziraphale's middle with a python grip. Aziraphale had to miraculously clear the path to the couch or else he surely would have fallen and ended their passionate exertions with a drunken tangle on the floor. 

He all but dropped Crowley on the couch, delighting in the way the demon's eyes lit up as he crawled atop him from between his legs. 

Crowley reached up for Aziraphale, with his hands and mouth. Aziraphale made all that silly reaching unnecessary by pressing himself as close to Crowley as he could get.

"God… oh c'mon, Aziraphale you made me say her name," Crowley rambled as Aziraphale trailed kisses down his throat. 

"All it takes to make a demon pray, is some… some… uh," Aziraphale searched for the right word to describe what they were doing.

"I'll pray to you," Crowley said with a wicked grin

"Crowley!" Aziraphale admonished him for the flattering blasphemy.

Crowley didn't seem to mind a good scolding though, because he went back to kissing Aziraphale hungrily. 

Aziraphale suddenly realized he'd pulled Crowley's shirt up, and was tracing his hipbone with curious fingers.

He splayed one hand over Crowley's stomach and let the other slide up and under the shirt. Crowley shivered.

"That's really not fair," he whined. 

Aziraphale lay his head down on Crowley's chest and listened to his heartbeat and his lungs filling. He liked how he could conduct the orchestra of Crowley's heart and breath by touching the right places.

At some point their starving kissing and grasping turned lazy, the wine and the warmth making their eyelids droop. Crowley had decided he most certainly liked feeling Aziraphale's weight on top of him, and dragged the angel down to lay fully on him as they both started yawning.

"Kiss me goodnight," Aziraphale demanded, and Crowley pressed a kiss into his hair. "I meant a real kiss," Aziraphale sighed.

"You can have a real one in the morning," Crowley mumbled, eyes already shut. 

In the silence that followed as angel and demon fell easily asleep in each others arms, they wondered if Crowley really would keep his word. Or if Aziraphale would let him or not. 

Tomorrow there would be no more wine and music and secrecy and their jobs would call once more. Neither of them yet knew if these things would be enough to let this night drift into a solitary memory, just some fun they'd never be irresponsible enough to try again.

Despite it all Aziraphale had the sound of Crowley's heartbeat slowing back down as he drifted off, and Crowley had Aziraphale's comforting weight pressing down on him, and not even the morning could take that from them.


End file.
